


The Price of Admission

by WeirdLittleStories



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: BDSM, Beating, Biting, F/M, Pon Farr, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdLittleStories/pseuds/WeirdLittleStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock must mate violently when pon farr is induced by an energy field, several years ahead of schedule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Admission

**Author's Note:**

> 1: In this story, Spock engages in intense BDSM. If you don't want to see Mr. Spock behaving in such a fashion, do not read this story.
> 
> 2: My characters always talk for eons before they get down to business. (I can't IMAGINE where they get that from. :D ) So if you want a story with mostly action, this is really not the story for you.
> 
> 3: This story takes place in the original timeline of Star Trek, not during the timeline that began with the 2009 "reboot" movie. This story occurs a few months after the events in "Turnabout Intruder," the last episode of the original series. (In other words, Spock isn't cheating on Uhura, because they don't have a romantic relationship in this timeline.)
> 
> 4: In "The Naked Time," Nurse Chapel says, " Mister Spock, (takes his hand) the men from Vulcan treat their women strangely. At least, people say that, but you're part human too. I know you don't, you couldn't, hurt me, would you?" I decided to run with that. :-)
> 
> 5\. Only the character of Elizabeth Fisher is mine; the others all belong to Paramount (legally) and Gene Roddenberry (morally). But this story is free, no money changed hands, so I'm allowed to borrow them for a moment. ;-)
> 
> 6\. This is my first post here, so um, be gentle, okay? Thanks!

 

**Captain's Log, Stardate 4972.7**

_The_ Enterprise _has encountered an unusual field of force in a previously unexplored region of space. The field has completely disabled our warp drive, but we were able to back slowly out of the field using impulse power. We are a long way from any known civilization, and Mr. Scott informs me that it will take approximately two weeks to repair the warp drive. Gravity and life support are unaffected, so we are unharmed, merely prevented from going anywhere for the next two weeks._

_The field had a profound effect on our engines, but we had believed the crew to be completely unaffected until Dr. McCoy reported that one crew member was experiencing a serious effect: Mr. Spock. His intercom message was cryptic, and I am on my way to sickbay to discover the details._

 

Captain Kirk met Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock in McCoy's office, where they could talk privately. McCoy looked troubled, and Spock looked embarrassed, which worried Kirk. Whenever he could read emotion on Spock's usually composed face, it was a sign of trouble ahead.

 "What is it, Bones?" Kirk asked. "What's wrong with Spock?"

 Spock said, "I seem to be experiencing an unknown mental illness."

 "Unknown, my eye! You're experiencing _pon farr,_ and you know it."

 Spock closed his eyes and bent his head.

 " _Pon farr?"_ Kirk asked. "But he just went through that two years ago. Don't we have five years before the next one's due?"

 "We have five years before he'd undergo a naturally-occurring _pon farr,_ but this isn't natural; it's caused by that field out there."

 "If it's not natural, does that mean that you can reverse it? Can you bring him back to normal?"

 "I wish I could, but now that it's started, it's acting just like any other episode of _pon farr._ "

 "You mean we have to get him to Vulcan within the week, or he'll die? Our warp drive is out! We'll be stuck here for weeks."

 Spock opened his eyes and raised his head. "I am not betrothed to anyone this time, so while Vulcan would be ideal, it's not obligatory. Any humanoid female would do, if I were willing to mate with one. But I am not."

 "Are you out of your Vulcan mind?" McCoy asked. "I just said that this is affecting you the same as any other _pon farr._ You may not want a human woman, but is having sex with one a fate worse than death? Because death's what's in store for you if you don't mate within the week!"

 "I am aware of the ramifications of Vulcan biology, doctor."

 Kirk took a step closer to Spock and stared into his eyes. "Explain."

 Spock closed his eyes as if in pain. "Must I, Captain? The details of Vulcan mating are very private and extremely embarrassing for a race which prides itself on logic."

 Kirk pointed his forefinger at Spock and tapped his chest with it. "If I'm going to lose the best first officer in the Fleet _and_ my closest friend, I expect more explanation than 'It's private and embarrassing.' I expect ANSWERS! The last time we dealt with _pon farr,_ what I didn't know almost got me killed, so I won't put up with half the story this time. I'm sorry to pry into private matters, but I must know what's going on."

 Spock nodded once. "Yes, I suppose you must. And you also, Dr. McCoy. May I have your word that what I'm about to tell you will not find its way into any written records?"

 McCoy shook his head. "Part of why I don't know what to do for you is because Vulcans are so blasted tight-lipped about this whole _pon farr_ business. You're the only Vulcan on this ship, but you're not the only Vulcan in Starfleet. If we knew more about what happens during _pon farr,_ we could do a better job of taking care of the Vulcans on our ships, not just you, but all Vulcans!"

 "I understand scientific curiosity, Doctor," Spock said, "And I sympathize with your desire to be effective in your role as medical officer. But these details cannot be shared. If I do not have your promise, I will simply refuse to speak."

 "Leave it, Bones," Kirk said. "Once we have the story, maybe we'll understand his reasons."

 Spock closed his eyes again, visibly gathering his strength. After a few moments he opened them, seeming calm once more.

 "You must have heard rumors," Spock said. "Even Nurse Chapel has heard rumors that Vulcan men are 'cruel' to Vulcan women."

 "We've both heard those rumors," Kirk said, "and we've heard you say many times that Vulcan has a savage history. When we took you to Vulcan two years ago to meet T'Pring, you said that Vulcan mating biology was a remnant of that savage history, so I guess we've both assumed that Vulcans were less ... controlled ... during mating than at other times. But everyone is; it's nothing to be ashamed of."

 "But Vulcans are much stronger than humans, Captain. And when in the grip of _plak tow,_ we are incapable of restraint or even thought. During the six years, eleven months, and twenty days between bouts of _pon farr,_ Vulcans mate with gentleness, even tenderness. But a Vulcan in blood fever cannot hold back. Do you understand?"

 Kirk smiled. "If you're telling me that Vulcans engage in ... vigorous ... intercourse during _pon farr,_ I don't see where that's a problem. I can attest that there are plenty of human females who enjoy a vigorous bout of lovemaking."

 "I remind you again, Captain, that Vulcans are stronger than humans. A Vulcan exerting his full strength could break the bones of a human woman."

 Kirk stopped smiling. "Oh. That does seem like more, uh, vigor, than most human women would enjoy. But can't we rig up some pillows or something to absorb some of the force? Surely having sex with you, even extremely hard sex, isn't such a terrible thing for a human woman that your death is a better alternative?"

 "Captain," Spock spoke barely above a whisper. "When I asked you to take me to Vulcan two years ago, I compared Vulcans to salmon, who must return to where they were born in order to spawn."

 "I remember."

 "I have another animal analogy for you this time. Do you know the mating habits of Rigelian Desertcats?"

 "I'm afraid I don't."

 "I do," McCoy said. He looked at Spock with new understanding. "Desertcat males have to prove their fitness to mate by subduing the female they intend to mate with. It's not rape -- the female chooses the male -- but he still has to prove himself by besting her in combat, and the contest is violent enough that some females don't survive it."

 "Yes," Spock said. "Vulcan has a harsh, unforgiving climate. Until modern technology made it easier, it was extremely difficult to scratch enough food and water from Vulcan's hostile landscape for even bare subsistence. Female Vulcans would not waste time or resources bearing children that had little chance of survival. In order to live in such a world, the child needed considerable strength and endurance."

 "And Vulcan males prove their strength and endurance by..." Kirk said.

 "By subduing the female through the delivery of what is essentially a savage beating."

 "But what happens if the woman is perfectly willing? You wouldn't have to subdue her. I'm sure there are plenty of women on this ship who would be completely willing to have sex with you."

 "You're trying to use logic, Captain, but this aspect of Vulcan life is the one area where we are _not_ logical. That is why we are never share it with outsiders. Vulcan women _are_ willing, but developing over many millennia in a harsh environment has given Vulcan women the peculiarity that they do not ovulate unless they meet a suitable mate. And suitability, for the purposes of ovulation, is determined not by intellectual closeness, emotional compatibility, pheromones, or any of the other things that normally cause one to chose a mate but by one thing: whether the male has proven himself worthy by the violence of his courtship."

 Kirk had to take a moment to digest that, so McCoy took over.

 "But you're not trying to reproduce; you're only trying to get the _pon farr_ to go away. The woman doesn't have to ovulate, and that's not what makes human females ovulate, anyway."

 Spock became visibly agitated and began shouting. "Do you think I want to die, Doctor? Do you think I'm sharing these extremely private details in order to horrify you? You know biology! You know that both sexes of a species evolve along complementary lines!"

 McCoy opened his eyes wide for a moment, then turned to Kirk.

 Kirk said, "What does he mean, Bones? What complementary lines are we talking about?"

 "When not in _pon farr,_ Vulcans have sex that you and I would consider normal. But when under the influence of _plak tow,_ a Vulcan male can't ejaculate unless he has beaten his partner to within an inch of her life."

 Kirk looked stricken. "And the _pon farr_ won't end..."

 "Unless he ejaculates. Yes."

 Spock looked away, his face a stiff mask.

 Kirk tugged on his shirt as he stood awhile in thought. Then he put a hand on his first officer's shoulder.

 "Spock. I know you're more emotional right now because you have _pon farr_ hormones in your bloodstream. But you don't have to be embarrassed. Vulcans' mating habits are a little extreme by human standards, but they're not unknown in the galaxy. You yourself gave the example of Rigelian Desertcats, so you know that this isn't unheard of. And you didn't choose it. You inherited this along with your father's blood; you're a victim of these circumstances. We would never judge you for something that's not under your control."

 "That's right," McCoy said. "We know you better than anyone, and we know who you are. You deplore violence so much that you're a vegetarian. You practically worship at the altar of emotional control. Your mating biology isn't up to you. This is something you suffer."

 "Gentlemen," Spock said. "You still do not understand me. Everything you say is true, except one. Although Vulcans have no control over this aspect of our biology, and although this is considered a secret that one should _never_ share with outsiders, it is one that Vulcans cherish."

 Kirk and McCoy blinked, startled.

 Spock continued. "You enjoy your own mating biology, do you not? You romanticize it and celebrate it in song and story? Vulcans feel the same way. We may choose to have much gentler encounters when our biology gives us that choice, but that doesn't mean that we despise the violent matings that come once every seven years. Those periodic reminders of our history are part of what keeps our entire culture focused on peace, tranquility, and logic. Giving one's partner a savage beating is a reminder of what is inside all of us, of what we must control. But it is also a measure of our passion. We normally turn that passion to science or art, but once every seven years, we turn it to violent forms of sexual expression, and yes, we _do_ celebrate it."

 "So, you'd normally be looking forward to beating up some poor girl?" McCoy looked angry.

 "No, doctor. I'd normally be looking forward to beating up a Vulcan woman who was herself looking forward to this rare outburst of passion in her life, a woman who was prepared to fight me tooth and nail, not because she didn't want to be there but because she too was in the grip of _plak tow;_ she, too, wanted all the violence that either of us could muster, she too -- for one week out of every seven years -- found beauty in our former savagery."

 Kirk said, "So, you aren't opposed to mating -- even mating violently -- in general. What you're opposed to is imposing this on a human woman who's not prepared for it and who can't give as good as she gets?"

 "Yes," Spock said. "But there's more." His voice deepened and became even more raspy. "Don't forget that Vulcan mating ends in a mind meld. For Vulcans, this is a beautiful, cherished intimacy, but Vulcans are prepared for it and long to share themselves with someone in that way. A human woman would have never done this before, would have no control over the process, and would find it invasive, even traumatic. For a human woman, I can only imagine that the most beautiful thing in my culture would feel like psychic rape."

 "But I've seen you perform mind melds before, on humans, on aliens, even a horta," Kirk said. "They weren't traumatized by the process."

 "I performed those mind melds when I was not in the grip of _plak tow_. I was able to go slowly, to use finesse, to go only as deeply into their minds as was necessary in order to accomplish our objectives. I kept much of my mind out of theirs."

 "And you can't do that while in _plak tow_?"

 "No. My mind will crash into my partner's mind, insistently and all at once. Even a Vulcan finds this stressful, but a Vulcan woman would have experienced mind meld before, would have received training in how to share her mind while retaining her self. A human woman's personality could well be simply ... obliterated."

 They were all silent for a moment, considering this.

 "Wait," McCoy said. "I have someone."

 "There are no other Vulcans on this ship."

 "No. But as Chief Medical Officer, I get a fuller psych report on all of our crew members than even the captain gets. Only the ship's psychologist sees what I see."

 "I have studied many variants of human psychology, Doctor. I know that there are at least a few humans who would be capable of the kind of sharing that a mind meld brings. And I know that there are practitioners of what I believe is called 'BDSM' who mate more violently than the average human. But both, Doctor? You know of someone refined enough for a mind meld and coarse enough for a beating?"

 "Don't spread this around, because it's not something I'd normally share ..." McCoy rubbed the back of his neck in thought.

 "Of course not, Bones," Kirk said. But we're trying to save Spock's life, here. You have those files specifically so that you can use the information in them if some emergency warrants its use."

 McCoy said, "Dr. Elizabeth Fisher -- usually called Dr. Liz -- the ship's psychologist, is the only other person who has access to these files. She IS the ship's psychologist partly because her appetite for intimacy is so large. And I'm not using 'intimacy' as a euphemism for sex; I mean that she likes to get close to people, to know them thoroughly, to dig down to the bones of a person's psyche and see what's there. That's part of why she's a psychologist. I think she's always been kind of sad that no one wants to know her quite as thoroughly."

 Kirk said, "So a Vulcan mind-meld would be the chance of a lifetime for her. But the physical aspect, Bones. What about the physical aspect? Spock speaks precisely, always. If he says 'savage beating,' that's exactly what he means."

 "What Spock's talking about goes beyond anything that someone could enjoy, or do regularly, and still pass the psych eval required to be a member of the crew. But we can heal physical damage pretty easily; I think Spock's more worried about the psychological damage that the physical damage could produce."

 Spock inclined his head in respect. "Astutely reasoned, Doctor. Yes. I expect that a Vulcan male in full _plak tow_ would do rather extensive tissue damage to a human woman, but with competent medical care, she could heal that in a few weeks. But the emotional trauma is something else again. I know enough about the lasting effects of emotional trauma to feel incapable of its infliction."

 McCoy said, "But that's the other part of what makes Dr. Liz a likely candidate. She does practice BDSM. She practices a much lighter version than a Vulcan in full blood fever mode, but taking pain from a sexual partner isn't bizarre or frightening for her; it's something she does on a regular basis. This would be a difference in degree, compared to what she's used to, but not a difference in kind."

 "You think that would make enough of a difference?" Kirk asked.

 "I don't know, but I think it's worth talking to her about," McCoy said.

 Spock opened his mouth to speak, but McCoy cut him off. "I know you don't want to share these details with non-Vulcans, but the ship's psychologist hears people's secrets all day every day. Have you ever heard her talk about her clients except in general terms? And damn it, isn't your life worth a little embarrassment!"

 Spock nodded gravely. "Thank you for your efforts on my behalf. I do know and like Dr. Liz, but I am not as close to her as I am to either of you. Could I ask, Doctor, that you share the pertinent details with Dr. Liz out of my hearing?"

 McCoy looked at Spock. "Normally, I'd make a joke right about now, but I know this is hard for you, so I won't. I'll talk to Dr. Liz for you. But if she agrees to try to save your life, you'll have to talk with her, yourself."

 "Of course. It is because I believe that a human woman can not give informed consent to mating with a Vulcan in _plak tow_ that I refuse to mate with one. If you tell me that Dr. Liz is willing, I will, of course, need to explore that consent with her in detail before anything else can be done."

 McCoy nodded and left sickbay.

 "Can you do that?" Kirk asked. "While you're in the unusually emotional state that _pon farr_ brings on, can you talk dispassionately about all of this with a woman you barely know?"

 "I know her perhaps better than you realize, Captain. I actually often spend time in her company because she's the only human on board this ship who accepts me exactly as I am."

 Kirk was surprised and even a bit hurt. "But ... I love you like a brother, Spock. You know that."

 "I do know it, and that knowledge warms me more than you can ever know. But you still think that I should be more human, more emotional. It is rare that a day passes when you don't try to provoke an emotion in me or try to catch me in one."

 "I ... I guess I never realized how it looked to you. I didn't realize that it would feel like lack of acceptance for who you are. But I _do_ know you. I know that you have a lot more emotion than you ever show."

 "And if I fail to show it, that, too, is my choice. That, too, is who I am."

 "I know. I know. I'm ... sorry, Spock. I never meant to imply that I wanted you to be different. I value your logical ability, I rely on it to calm me down when I need it, to point out flaws in my reasoning, to help me run this ship."

 "I know that, too, Captain. We _are_ best friends, and it is not a one-sided relationship."

 "Does that mean that you love me, too, Spock?"

 Spock raised an eyebrow and clasped his hands behind his back. "I believe that's implicit in the statement I just made."

 Kirk laughed. "You still seem much as usual. Are you sure about this _pon farr?_ Sure it's not just a momentary blip caused by that field out there?"

 "I am exercising considerable control in order to appear much as usual, but that control is fraying. Indeed, you saw me shout at the doctor just a few moments ago."

 "That's right, I did."

 "If this could be wished away, believe me, Captain, no one would wish harder than I."

 "What do you want to do while we wait for McCoy? Do you need to rest?"

 "I am too agitated to rest or to meditate, Captain. Perhaps we could play chess."

 Kirk chuckled. "Yes, I always play chess when _I'm_ agitated."

 "I believe that explains much about your playing style, Captain."

 "Mr. Spock! You made a joke."

 "Are you certain, Captain? It seems most unlikely."

 McCoy walked back into the office, and Kirk moved from joking mode to alert mode instantly. "What's the story, Bones? Did you talk to Dr. Liz?"

 "I did. She's headed for Spock's quarters right now. She said she thought that both of them would probably rather explore her informed consent in private."

 "So, she agreed?" Kirk said.

 "She did. She cut to the heart of the matter right away when she said that she'd heard that the state of _pon farr_ resulted in death if mating was not performed. I told her that was true and said that Spock was concerned that she wouldn't understand what she was getting herself into, that Vulcan mating practices might seem extreme to human eyes. She got irritable and said that if it would save his life, he could cut off her arm and eat it for breakfast." McCoy chuckled. "I wouldn't try saying no to that lady, Spock, or she'll eat _you_ for breakfast."

 Spock raised an eyebrow and looked faintly puzzled. "That does sound like Vulcan women as I have known them, but I thought human women were milder."

 

Spock walked down the corridor to his quarters and entered. Dr. Liz was waiting for him, standing in the center of the room and looking around assessingly, as if trying to glean the meaning of every object in the room.

 "Dr. Liz," he said.

 She nodded gravely at him. "Mr. Spock. I'm so sorry to hear that the field of force we crossed yesterday has brought you into _pon farr_ five years early. I know that's an uncomfortable situation for you, especially with us stuck here, unable to move for two weeks."

 "Yes. I had thought our five-year mission would be complete long before the next time _pon farr_ was due."

 "And here you are, stuck among humans, with no woman worthy of you."

 "No woman worthy of me?"

 "That's what you think, isn't it?" She looked at him challengingly. "You told McCoy you needed a Vulcan woman to match you, that a human woman wouldn't be up to the task."

 "I did not put it like that," Spock said.

 "No, of course not. You're always polite. But I read between the lines pretty well. That IS what you think, isn't it? No human woman can take what you'll dish out, physically. No human woman can withstand your oh-so-mighty mind, mentally. We aren't strong enough to mate with."

 "I had forgotten your profession for a moment, but you're reminding me of it rather forcibly."

 Liz smiled. "Raising another issue is a time-honored way of avoiding the question."

 "All right, yes." Spock allowed his voice to become harsher. "Yes, I think human women are physically and mentally frail. I think that your body cannot withstand what I would do to it, and I fear that your mind would shatter if my mind entered yours. If we were to mind meld while I was in full possession of my faculties, I could go slowly, be gentle, ease my mind into yours. But I shall not be in full possession of my faculties. My mind will slam into yours, seeking the maximum blending and sharing all at once. I could destroy you. And I will not be responsible for that."

 "What about your mother, Spock?"

 "That is a non-sequitur."

 Liz walked towards him and put one hand on his cheek. "Your mother, Spock. Your mother is a human woman. She has been married to your father for far longer than seven years. Surely your mother has mated with a Vulcan in full _plak tow_ and has lived to tell the tale!"

 Spock jerked away from her hand, then stood stiffly, at his most Vulcan. "It is in poor taste for a son to contemplate his mother's mating habits."

 "I wouldn't bring it up if it wasn't relevant! Has your mother's mind shattered during your lifetime? Has she been taken to the hospital for extreme physical damage at seven-year intervals? If not, then human women are not as fragile as you believe."

 "All right." He spoke stiffly. "I agree that it is relevant, even if distasteful."

 "Of course it's distasteful. But so is your goddamned death! Now answer my question."

 "My mother's mind has certainly never shattered. But she met my father while he was not in _pon farr,_ and they had their first mind meld while he was in full control of himself. He was able to do a shallow mind meld at first, doing a little more each time, until she gradually acclimated to having a Vulcan in her mind completely."

 "Could you do a mind meld with me before we mate? Before the blood fever has taken hold?"

 Spock shook his head. "If I did a mind meld with a female now, it would send me directly into _plak tow._ I have to exercise considerable control merely being alone in a room with a female humanoid."

 Liz nodded, eyeing his face in some concern, looking for visible evidence of the storm that he said was raging inside him. His face had more expression than usual -- she could tell that he had emotions -- but he still seemed far more calm and controlled than any human. She'd always known that his control was formidable, but this new evidence of its strength amazed her.

 "Answer the question about the hospital, then. Has your mother been taken to the hospital for mating injuries?"

 Again Spock stiffened and looked somewhat perturbed. "My mother has never been taken to the hospital. But she has gone into seclusion for a few weeks and emerged from her seclusion walking more stiffly than usual for a few more weeks. These periods of seclusion occur approximately every seven years."

 "It sounds as if your mother IS injured, then, but not enough to need a hospital, just enough for some good old-fashioned bed rest."

 "Yes. A logical conclusion. But my father knew he was marrying a human woman. He had several years in which to prepare for the period of _pon farr._ I don't know if there are any contrivances that would reduce the injuries a human woman would incur, but my father would have had several years to think of and to build such contrivances. We have at most a few days."

 "Not even that long."

 " _Pon farr_ usually lasts for a week, and it is unlikely to kill me before that week ends."

 Liz shook her head. "We don't know what effect substituting a human woman for a Vulcan woman might have, plus we don't know what effect it might have on you for your _pon farr_ to be induced by that energy field, rather than happening naturally. We don't know if you might need to mate several times in order to come out of _pon farr._ We know that a human woman _can_ work, because your father isn't dead, but we don't know if there are any accommodations that might have to be made."

 Spock inclined his head. "Well thought out."

 Liz put both hands on Spock's chest and looked into his eyes. "When I was in graduate school, I did experiments on human subjects and had to obtain informed consent from them. Most researchers just had the subjects sign a form, but I always thought that consent was only truly informed if the person giving the consent gave it in their own words." She paused. "Shall I give it to you in my own words, Spock?"

 "An excellent practice. Please do. But..." Spock grasped her hands and removed them from his chest. "Please do not touch me, or it will be difficult for me to maintain control."

 Liz took a step back but still looked into his eyes. "I understand that if you don't mate, you will die. I understand that although Vulcans mate much like humans during most of their lives, during _pon farr,_ Vulcans go into something called _plak tow,_ which translates as 'blood fever.' During this fever in the blood, male and female Vulcans fight each other as a prelude to mating. The male must overpower the female violently in order for mating to be successful."

 Spock cleared his throat. "I was not as clear about this as I could have been when speaking with Dr. McCoy and the captain. The Vulcan male doesn't just overpower the female; he demonstrates his strength by beating her. Beating the head or vital organs would be contra-survival, so even when in _plak tow,_ instinct leads the male to beat the less vital and better-padded parts of her anatomy. But that is the only mitigating factor I can think of. Although the biology of Vulcan women is such that they find this treatment arousing during _pon farr_ , it does not resemble the erotic spankings or mild floggings that human practitioners of BDSM give to one another. I will be beating your body with my closed fist, as hard as I am capable of. _Plak tow_ will not permit me to use anything less than my full strength, nor to increase the force gradually so that you can get used to it."

 Liz looked at the floor and took a deep breath, then looked back at Spock. "Dr. McCoy told me that you used the phrase 'savage beating.'"

 Spock nodded, then looked away. "I did so, because that is what it is. Yet, if you were Vulcan, you would want it, look forward to it, find that it expressed the fever in your own blood, let loose the violent desires in your own heart. I would not be apologizing or feeling ashamed; we would both glory in it. We would burn together."

 Liz cupped Spock's chin in her hand and turned his head to face her. "Don't feel ashamed when you talk to me, not ever. Not EVER," she repeated fiercely. "I don't play as hard as you do; my biology didn't give that to me the way yours did to you. But I do know about violent desires. And my BDSM experiences include things a hell of a lot heavier than erotic spankings."

 Spock gently removed her hand from his face. "I have always felt great acceptance from you; it's a gift I've never thanked you for, but I value it."

 Liz gave him a joyful smile. "That's one of the nicest things you could say to a psychologist! You're welcome, Mr. Spock." She sobered. "But tell me, which aspect of this beating is important? Is it the violence that you crave when in _plak tow_? Is it my pain? Is it the fighting back that I will do, or my submission once I stop fighting?"

 "It is all of that; none of it is divisible from the rest. And that is something you must be prepared for, for it is usually anathema for someone to enjoy the pain of another sentient being. I need the violence -- we cannot substitute electric shock or something else that causes pain without tissue damage. But it is not just the violence. We cannot give you medication that keeps you from feeling the pain, because I will need..." Spock stopped speaking and looked away.

 "Tell me! Don't be embarrassed. It's your biology, and you have a right to it. What?"

 Spock cleared his throat. "I will need for you to be screaming. Loudly. For a long time. And once the _plak tow_ is upon me, I will no longer be embarrassed, no longer aware of how all of this seems to a human. I will glory in the violence, I will glory in the bruises I will leave upon your body, I will glory in your pain."  He paused.  "The change in me could be quite disturbing."

 Liz nodded. "Good! You said it!"

 Spock very nearly smiled. "You really are a psychologist."

 Liz fidgeted nervously with her hair, twirling a lock of it around her finger. "You've presented this as the male proving himself, but you're being polite again, aren't you? The Vulcan male isn't just proving how strong HE is; the Vulcan female is also proving her endurance, isn't she? Birthing a baby on Vulcan must have required enormous physical stamina in the old days, and your mate would be proving to you that she had that, every bit as much as you were proving yourself to her. Am I right?"

 Spock nodded. "You are. I thought Vulcan mating customs would be less objectionable to humans if I emphasized the male's proving himself to the female, but you are correct that the female proves herself to the male at least as much."

 "Otherwise, they'd only need to fight," Liz said. "There'd be no need for a beating after the fight was won."

 "Correct. Our biologists believe that the beating evolved so that the female could demonstrate her endurance and thus her fitness to reproduce. That isn't what Vulcan women are thinking during the process, however; they are also in the grip of _plak tow_ and are aroused by the violence and even by the pain."

 Liz nodded, then thought for a moment. "I've never done anything as extreme as what Vulcans must do, but in a very mild way, I do know what it's like to be aroused by violence and even by pain. And when I was younger, I had a top who used to make me scream as hard as I could, with nothing held back. He only made me take maybe ten strokes like that, at the end of a scene, but I used to dream about it for years afterwards."

 Spock gazed at her with hope in his eyes. "What made you dream about it? What did you like about it?"

 "A mixture of things. I'm not even sure about all of it. But part of it was that it made me stop living in my head so much; for those ten strokes, I was nothing but a screaming body. I was so far gone that I didn't worry if the neighbors could hear me screaming or if my eyes were red or if people thought I was a wimp for screaming so loudly. I didn't think at all; I only felt."

 "Yes," Spock said. "That aspect is something all Vulcans understand, part of why we cherish these episodes. What else?"

 Liz blushed. "I think part of it was a somewhat foolish pride, like 'I must be something special because I could take that.' I'm somewhat chagrined to find that in myself, but it was there."

 "I understand," Spock said. "What else?"

 "Part of it was that my top never really let himself take as much as he wanted and needed, and on those few occasions when he let himself take something approaching what he wanted, I felt really happy to be able to give him that, even when I didn't enjoy it physically. I've never really been a submissive; I don't kneel or clean the house or act subservient. But taking more pain than I actually want, as a gift to a top who really needs it, something about that makes me feel good, even if I'm screaming at the time. It seems to be my own personal form of submission."

 "McCoy is a genius. But don't tell him I said that."

 Liz laughed. "He said he thought my psych profile made me the best fitted for this particular task. I hadn't really thought about that aspect of my play style until just now, but yes, I CAN do this. It would be different if I didn't like you or respect you, but I always have. I think I can go under for you."

 "'Go under'? Is that what you call it when you take more pain than you want as a gift to a top who really needs it?"

 "It's a term that's often used for going into a submissive state, but I'm not very submissive in general, just in that one particular way."

 "Well, does 'really needs it' include 'He'll literally die if he fails to receive it'?"

 Liz laughed. "That's about as much of really needing it as I can think of!" She looked up at Spock again. "Do you need more informed consent, or are we done?"

 "There's one other issue. Actual mating could also be problematic."

 "'Actual mating'? Do you mean intercourse? Since we're going to be doing it, don't you think we could call it 'fucking'?" She grinned at him.

 "Part of how I hold onto my control is to be formal and clinical. I hope that you will allow me this."

 "Part of how I defuse my nervousness is to be irreverent and silly. I hope that you will allow _me_ this."

 Spock nodded. "Of course. Intercourse will happen at the conclusion of the beating. I will be deep in _plak tow_ by then and will be capable of neither gentleness nor finesse. You're probably aware that Vulcans are considerably stronger than humans, so..."

 Liz said, "When you warned me about the mind meld, you said that your mind would slam into mine with maximum force. I gather that's not the only thing you plan to slam into me with maximum force?"

 "It is not a joking matter. You could be injured. Even broken bones are not outside the realm of probability."

 "I bet I'll have a severely bruised cunt. But you're already going to severely bruise a lot of the rest of me. It's harder than I like to play, but it's not a fate worse than your death."

 "But the death would be mine. The bruises -- and other possible injuries -- will be yours."

 Liz glared at him. "Do you think you're the only moral person on this ship? What do you think would happen to me if I let you die, knowing I could have saved you? The guilt and regret would slam into me a lot harder and a lot longer than anything you could do to my body or even my mind. If I let you die, I could well end up killing myself out of guilt. Oh, no, Mister. There's no death for you. If you have to beat me all day every day for the next week, it'd still be better than the alternative."

 "I believe we can avoid all day and every day."

 Liz smiled. "All right, then. Are we done with your concerns? I appreciate that you're a moral person, Spock; I really do. Your concern for the rights and well-being of all lifeforms is one of the things I love about you. And I appreciate it that you think things through, that you see implications, that you want to think about the possible results before you take action. But our time is limited. And we have to do this. Dr. McCoy thinks I'm your best bet among the women who are on the ship right now, and I've seen the psych profiles and agree with him. I won't let you die, so let's get started."

 Spock cleared his throat. "There are two things, before we begin."

 "What?"

 "Tell me how to arouse you. What kinds of things do you enjoy? We will be forced to perform actions that you will not enjoy, but I would like to at least begin with you as a participant, and not just the vessel that receives the results of my _plak tow._

 "What's the other thing?"

 Spock looked stiff and uncomfortable again. "I believe that if you insert some personal lubricant into the relevant cavity before we begin, the experience will be marginally less difficult for you."

 Liz wanted to laugh, but Spock looked so uncomfortable that she suppressed it. "That's very thoughtful of you, Mr. Spock. Dr. McCoy is ahead of you there, though; he pressed a bottle of lube into my hand before I came here. One of the things I was going to suggest was that you apply it for me; that will be much sexier than if I apply it myself. But first ... won't you take off your clothes?"

 "I want to hold onto as much of my control as I can while you tell me how to arouse you. My clothes will come off later, and yours won't come off until the _plak tow_ leaves me no choice but to rip them from you."

 She caught her breath, suddenly very aroused by the thought. He advanced towards her, grabbed her shoulder and shook it. "You like that thought?" he asked harshly. "You think it'll be _fun_ to have me rip your clothes off?"

 She glared at him. "A Vulcan woman would think it was fun, wouldn't she? Should I pretend to be a shrinking violet so that I can conform to your notions of what human women are like?"

 Spock calmed and released her shoulder. "I didn't mean it that way. I meant ... every single person on this entire ship is constantly waiting for me to show emotion, except you. I had thought that you accepted me, but now it seems that you, too, can't wait to see me emote."

 Liz spoke gently. "While you're in _pon farr,_ you're going to emote. Am I glad that I'll get to see that? Yes, I am. Not because I've been waiting with bated breath to see you slip, but because it's a part of you, an important part of you that hardly anyone gets to see. And I will see it, and that will bring me closer to you." Her voice hardened. "The price of my admission ticket will be pretty damned steep, Mister, so pardon me if I enjoy the show while I'm there."

 Spock stiffened. "I am justly rebuked."

 Liz reached out a hand to comfort him, then pulled it back, fearful of weakening his control. She spoke gently. "I understand that it must be hard to have 400 people constantly watching, constantly waiting, always looking to see a hint of feeling in you. I don't need for you to express any feeling that you wouldn't naturally express. But given that you _will_ be expressing some, I would like to witness that. Do you see the difference?"

 Spock inclined his head. "I do. And I thank you for clarifying. I am not myself at the moment, or I would not have chided you."

 "Spock, Spock, we're going to be sharing something very important. If I ever do something that makes you unhappy or annoyed, I want you to tell me."

 "Very well. And now, my control is continuing to fray. You were going to tell me how to arouse you. I recognize that this is a clinical-sounding invitation, but I ... have ... little ... control ... left."

 Liz became as Vulcan-like as she could, trying to speak as coolly and clinically as possible so as to preserve the remains of his control, though this cost her, since her own natural style was to become flippant in the face of her nervousness.

 "I find kissing very arousing, but that's what's usually called 'French' or 'tongue' kissing; you basically can't give me too much tongue while kissing me. I also like having the side of my neck nibbled on, soft sucking bites at first, getting gradually harder and building up over time until you're biting and sucking hard enough to draw a little blood. My nipples like fairly firm stimulation; roll them between your thumb and forefinger and pinch them moderately at first, increasing gradually over time until you're pinching them fairly hard. And I'd say that I enjoy a good, hard fuck, but uh..." She swallowed and looked down. "I gather that part's taken care of."

 She paused, then looked back up, up into his eyes. "Will you kiss me, Mr. Spock?"

 He approached her cautiously, as if she were a bomb that might go off if approached in the wrong way. She knew, though, that he was the bomb he feared might go off. She felt completely at a loss; all of her sexual skills were geared towards arousing a partner, and she had no idea what to do with a partner who was trying desperately _not_ to become aroused. She didn't know what to do with her hands, since he'd indicated earlier that he didn't want her to touch him, and ended up clasping them behind her back. She was momentarily amused, since this was Spock's characteristic pose, not hers, but he knew more about what was going on than she did, and she would have to be led by him.

 Spock kissed her, cautiously at first, as if testing if his control would hold, then gradually it became less like a dental exam and more like a kiss. His mouth tasted different from a human's mouth, though not unpleasant, and when he caressed her tongue with his own, she stopped feeling quite so awkward and started to realize that she was going to be having sex with Spock. She hoped that he wouldn't beat her completely unconscious before fucking her; even if the sex hurt, she wanted to be awake and aware for it.

 And then his control loosened a bit more, and he was kissing her as passionately as she'd ever wanted a lover to kiss her, licking her tongue, biting her lips, moaning into her mouth in a way that made her instantly wet. She could have kissed him for hours, but she knew that his control didn't have hours, and she felt him move to the side of her neck and begin to kiss, nibble, and suck on it.

 He moved from soft bites to harder ones rather quickly, but she was ready for him. She knew she would have to pull her most violent desires up from the depths of her mind and use them to make the coming experience manageable, and she thought -- but did not say -- _"Yes, bite me hard. Make me feel it! Sink your teeth into my neck until you taste blood, then lick my blood from your lips and tell me that it's good."_

 He bit her much harder, then murmured, "Your blood tastes good," and she realized to her dismay that she'd been trying to psych herself up with a sexy interior monologue while being kissed by _a touch telepath._

 He felt her mental facepalm and smirked at her, an expression startling in Mr. Spock's normally impassive face. "A mind meld with you will be much easier than I'd thought. Your mind nearly sucks mine in."

 "I can't wait," she said, and meant it.

 "My control is still slipping, but I'm retaining more of it than I'd thought I would. Is there any way I can make the beating easier for you? I've read that BDSM practitioners do something called 'warming up.' Would that help?'"

 Liz looked unhappy and said, "Kissing me helped you _gain_ control? Am I that repulsive, then?"

 "No," Spock said, "Not at all. Kissing you helped me gain control because it made it clear that we _are_ going to mate. The _pon farr_ was pushing me hard in order to force me to find a mate, but now that a mate has been chosen, the effects of _pon farr_ slacken somewhat. Those effects will come again, and even more urgently, in the next wave, but this wave is receding slightly. We have a few moments before the next one arrives, which is why I asked about warming up."

 She sighed. "If you could warm me up, that would help a whole lot. Hit me gently on each of the areas that you intend to beat later, increasing in force gradually over time, if you can manage that. Do you know about the sweet spot? If you divide one cheek of the buttocks into quadrants, a beating is more likely to feel sexual and less likely to feel like unpleasant pain if it's given on the lower, inner quadrant."

 "Lower, inner quadrant. I will remember."

 "Spock?" she asked, suddenly struck by an idea.

 "Yes?"

 "You said the mind meld usually occurs at the end of a mating that happens during _pon farr_."

 "Correct."

 "Is that merely customary or is it obligatory? Could you do the mind meld earlier?"

 "Uncertain. Why?"

 "Do you know what a BDSM switch is, Mr. Spock?"

 "Someone who can function as either a top or a bottom during a BDSM scene."

 Liz smiled. "Very good. And although we've been talking about my bottom side, because I thought that was what you needed, I'm a switch."

 Spock was quick on the uptake. "If your mind is joined to mine while I'm beating you, you believe that you can enjoy your own pain from a top's perspective?"

 "I don't know. It's not something humans can usually experiment with. But when you read what I was thinking so easily while you were kissing me, I wondered."

 He nodded. "Vulcan behavior during _pon farr_ is quite programmed, and behavior during _plak tow_ is even more programmed. I will mind meld with you earlier if I am capable of it, but I doubt that I will have that choice."

 "I understand. Since you have a few moments of clarity, I have another couple of concerns to raise."

 "Yes?"

 "I hadn't realized quite how easily you would read my mind or that you'd be able to read it even before the mind meld. It sounds like you've done some reading about BDSM, so you've certainly heard of safewords."

 "Of course."

 "And I know that this will be -- HAS to be -- a no-safeword scene. I'm used to having a safeword, though, and I worry about what will happen if you read my mind screaming 'Safeword!' even if I'm not saying it aloud."

 "I doubt that you will safeword before _plak tow_ begins, and once it does, neither you nor I will have any choices whatsoever."

 "Okaaay," Liz said, feeling scared but trying not to show it. "I understand that. The other thing is, um..." She paused.

 Spock raised an eyebrow. "The _psychologist_ is embarrassed? There is something she finds difficult to talk about?"

 "Yes, damn it! I'm as human as anybody, maybe more so. And I'm not being a psychologist now, because the one unbreakable rule is that psychologists never have sex with clients." She grinned suddenly. "If you ever need psychotherapy, you'll have to see McCoy, because I won't be able to take you as a client."

 "I believe you spoke earlier about changing the subject in order to avoid difficult topics."

 "Hrmph. Okay." She looked up at him, then took a deep breath. "In order to match you as much as possible, Spock, I'm going to dig out my most extreme fantasies, the things I've never actually wanted to do in real life, the things I've thought about but always felt were too out there for reality. I'm going to talk to myself and try to persuade myself that I want these things for real, that I want them right now, and that I want them with you. I hadn't thought you'd overhear my internal monologue, but it's clear that you'll hear at least part of it. They aren't suggestions or instructions! They're a way for me to psych myself up, to try to become a person who won't just withstand what you need to do but who will -- what's the word you used? -- 'glory' in it."

 Spock took her hand and held it, a surprisingly tender gesture. "I salute your courage."

 Liz took a deep breath. "So, warm up?"

 He released her hand. "Warm up. Indeed. Yes."

 The annunciator beeped, and Spock looked annoyed. "I set that to emergency mode; no one should bother us unless there's a red alert."

 "It's probably McCoy, then," Liz said. "Maybe he has something to help us."

 Spock pushed the button to release the door, and it slid open to reveal Dr. McCoy holding a hypo and Captain Kirk holding a wrestling mat.

 McCoy looked them over. "You're both still dressed. Good, I'm in time then."

 "What is it, Doctor?" Spock said impatiently.

 McCoy held up the hypo. "I can't remove the _pon farr,_ but it occurred to me that there's something I can do to take the edge off of your strength. I can't give you very much of this, because there's a limit to how much I should monkey with your body chemistry while you have those hormones coursing through your bloodstream. But this should make you about as strong as a young, fit human, rather than as strong as a young, fit Vulcan. You'd still be capable of killing Liz if you weren't careful, but you'd have to work harder to do it."

 "No," Liz said. "I appreciate the thought, Dr. McCoy, but I think that's a bad idea."

 "Why?" McCoy asked.

 "We already don't know what effect it will have on Spock to have his _pon farr_ induced by that field out there instead of through his natural hormonal cyclicity. We already don't know what effect it will have on Spock for him to mate with a human instead of a Vulcan. We're already pushing the envelope when it comes to what changes can be made in the normal conduct of _pon farr;_ there's already a question about whether he can survive all of these changes." She shook her head. "There's no way we should change anything else. Spock has to use his full strength, or this mating might not turn off the _pon farr_ when we're finished."

 "You're right." McCoy returned the hypo to its case and extracted a different one. "But this one is something for you, not him."

 "What is it?"

 "It's treatment for shock. When somebody undergoes a prolonged beating that doesn't damage any vital organs, organ damage won't kill them, but shock sometimes does. If you use this as soon as you're finished, it should mitigate the effects of shock."

 Spock nodded. "Take it," he said.

 "Don't worry, I was planning to. Thank you, Dr. McCoy; this is a good idea."

 Kirk stepped forward. "From what Spock told us earlier, it sounds like part of this encounter will resemble sparring practice. I know from my own practice that it's nice to have something soft to land on when you're sparring, especially for the partner who's practicing their falls." He gave her a charming little grin. "So I brought a wrestling mat from the gym for your private practice."

 Liz smiled warmly at him and took the mat. "Since I expect to be doing the bulk of the falling, I thank you, Captain. This was very thoughtful of you." She glanced at Spock and saw the strain on his face. "Thanks to both of you, but it's time for you to go, and please ... don't come back."

 "Good luck," McCoy said as they headed out.

 Spock hit the button that reset the annunciator to emergency mode with considerable force, and Liz smothered a giggle. She knew it wasn't really a laughing matter, but she'd always turned to humor in times of stress. She would never want Spock to think she was laughing at him, though, so she suppressed it.

 Spock grabbed the wresting mat from her hand and spread it on the floor, then turned and looked at her, his dark, deep-set eyes seeming darker and deeper than ever.

 "Now," she said, "You were going to warm me up?"

 "On the mat," he said, his voice sounding hoarse and strained.

 Liz laid on the mat face down, and Spock knelt beside her. Spock made a fist and brought it down, fairly gently, on her upper back.

 Liz exhaled. "Warm-up doesn't have to be quite _that_ gentle."

 "Noted." Spock hit her again, harder. It was a good warm-up blow this time, hard enough to notice, but feeling more like a hard massage than actual pain.

 "Good," Liz said.

 Spock continued striking her upper back, covering the entire area with blows of the same intensity. He made another pass over her back, hitting her somewhat harder this time around; the blows hurt this time, though still not very much. "You could probably use a longer warm up than that in each area, but I do not have much time left."

 "Got it," Liz said. "In that case, start with the level you're at now. The previous level was a good place to begin a slow warm up, but slow isn't in the cards tonight."

 Spock nodded, then began striking her butt. She was amused to note that Spock, always a master of information, had indeed started with the lower, inner quadrant, as instructed, though he wasn't staying there. Two passes over her buttocks, and he moved to her thighs. These blows were harder still, as if his control were slipping. Liz blew out a breath and tried to center herself. _"Bottom mode NOW!"_ she thought.

 Spock grabbed her right hip and rolled her over onto her back. His face was twisted, and he appeared to be in some distress. His fist crashed into her breast, and she yelped, and he stood up abruptly.

 "I can give you no more warm up," he said. "We must begin now."

 She stood. "I should spar with you? Try to fight?"

 "Yes. A Vulcan woman would be naturally guided to sparring in a way that wouldn't maim me, so even though putting her fingers through my eyes would be a good way to win a fight, a Vulcan woman would never do that. It is sparring with a friendly opponent, not a fight against an enemy." As he spoke, Spock removed his shirt and boots, ending up clad only in his uniform trousers.

 Liz took off her own boots while eyeing his slender torso with appreciation. "I understand. Come ahead, then."

 Spock shifted into a sparring stance, his weight distributed over legs spread shoulder-width apart, his hands raised and held in front of his chest. Like all of the _Enterprise's_ crew, Liz had had the mandatory training in hand-to-hand combat. The standards were lower for medical personnel, though, and the training they were given was mostly of the type that Spock had just warned her against. She knew how to fight dirty enough to disable an attacker but not how to spar with him in a friendly way.

  _"I'm supposed to lose,"_ Liz thought, _"But I'm also supposed to put up a good fight. I just don't have the skills for this. But would a Vulcan woman have any more training than I have? Or would she make up in ferocity what she lacked in training? Ferocity. Hmm."_ Liz reached deep into her psyche and pulled out the part of her that hated to lose, the part of her that enjoyed another's pain, the part of her that was greedy and selfish, the part of her that wasn't civilized. She let the savage side of her nature fill her, welcoming it to a degree that she had never allowed herself before. Then she attacked.

 Liz moved in and pretended to launch a punch at Spock's chest while actually hooking her foot behind his heel and dragging his foot towards her. He was too well balanced to go crashing to the floor, the way she'd hoped, but he did stagger for a moment, which allowed her to punch him in the chest.

 Spock shrugged off her blow as if he'd barely felt it. Liz knew she didn't have the upper body strength to cause him serious damage, but she'd hoped that he'd at least have _felt_ her punch. She wondered if the _pon farr_ hormones increased his pain threshold.

 Frustration increased her ability to access the less-civilized parts of her psyche, and she noticed this and decided to use it. _"That asshole has an unfair advantage,"_ she thought to herself, deliberately psyching herself up. _"He's got those goddamned hormones making him impervious to pain, while I stand here trying to get to him. Well shrug THIS off, Mister!"_ Liz launched herself at him, not trying to land any blows but simply throwing her entire body at him like a projectile. Surprised, Spock went down, with her on top of him, and she used her head to smack him in the chest.

 The air rushed out of him with a woofing sound, and she grinned fiercely. She raised her hand to strike him, only to find it seized, his hand around her wrist, his grip as ungiving and unbreakable as handcuffs. He threw her off of him, and she flew several feet before landing on the wrestling mat with a “wooof” of her own. _"Thank you, Captain Kirk,"_ she thought, then bounded up again.

 Spock was on his feet and coming towards her, no longer letting her bring the attack to him. He punched her in the left breast, a crushingly hard blow that made her shriek in pain then pound her own fist into his arm. He grabbed her hand, then she grabbed his, and they wrestled for control. His strength was so much greater than hers that he easily gained control over both her arms, but she wasn't ready to lose yet, so she turned her head and bit the wrist that held her right hand, sinking her teeth into his flesh as hard as she could.

 He did not cry out but did let go of her right arm in order to control her head, and she used that arm to pound on his back with all of her strength. He put one hand around the back of her neck and forced her face down until her knees buckled, forced her all the way down onto the mat, as she drove her heels into every part of his body that she could reach on the way down.

 He laid on top of her, panting, and said, "You will stop fighting!" She twisted and fought, and he was enough stronger than she that she couldn't get away, but she was fighting hard enough that he had to work to control her. They wrestled this way for several minutes, and Liz felt herself running out of energy and knew that she would have to stop fighting soon. She put forth one last effort, spending her energy in a frenzy of kicking and struggling, and Spock moved his head to the side of her neck and sank his teeth into the area he'd bitten before.

 Her submissive trigger switched on, and she stopped fighting and let him bite her, which he did with much more violence than before, growling at her and biting extremely hard. It hurt more than she was used to, more than she wanted, but her blood was up from the fight, and at some level it felt right that it should hurt so much.

 Spock grabbed her uniform shirt and ripped it off of her, the fabric tearing easily in his hands. She'd removed her bra before coming to his quarters, so her upper body was bare. He grabbed the waistband of her trousers with both hands and pulled in opposite directions, splitting the fabric at the seams and pulling the scraps of fabric out from under her.

 She lay there nude, still breathing hard from the fight, still bleeding from his bite, and then he began to hit her. His fist crashed into her upper back, harder than she had believed possible, and she screamed. He was using both fists, one after the other, battering her back so quickly that she barely had space to breathe. He pounded his fists into her back with a Vulcan's incredible strength, murmuring to her all the while. "Take it, take it," he said, his voice recalling to her just who it was who was doing this to her.

 She put her head down and screamed, concentrating on taking the quick breaths she could just barely manage between blows. "Yes, yes," he said, sounding pleased, though with the quality of her screams or the consistency of her back, she didn't know.

 Her back became more sore and more tender with every blow, and the quick, constant beating overwhelmed her. She breathed and screamed, screamed and breathed, and thought not at all.

 Then he moved from her back to her buttocks, and she had time for one quick thought -- that the beating wasn't over yet, that he'd stopped beating her back only to begin again in a new area. Then Spock drove his fist into the soft flesh of her buttocks, his fist sinking into her flesh wrist-deep. He pounded her relentlessly, and she screamed so loudly and for so long that her throat began to give out. "Yes, scream for me," he said hoarsely. "Scream _hard_ ," he said, the sound of words jerking her back into her mind and out of the space where she was only a screaming body.

 She thought, _"I'm yours. Take what you need. Take it all. Make me scream for you; I_ want _you to."_ He continued beating her buttocks for even longer than he'd beaten her back, and as the beating continued, her capacity for taking the pain broke down, yet she had no choice but to take it. Her limits not just reached but passed, her ability to cope obliterated, she moved from submission to terror and began to shake uncontrollably. She feared that her flesh must surely turn to liquid under blows like this, must surely break down into simple protoplasm.

 He stopped, and she hoped again that it was over, but he merely grabbed her hip and rolled her over, leaving her face up on the mat. She could see his face now, and the sight of a Vulcan in deep _plak tow_ was both thrilling and frightening. She could see, written there on his face, the savagery that he had always warned was part of Vulcan's history. And she could see, in the look in his eyes, that it wasn't yet time for sex, that there was more violence to come. She looked back at him and gave him herself in her eyes. "Yes, I know what we're about to do together, and it is good," her look said, and she would never tell anyone how much it had cost her to push aside the pain and terror, to hold that look.

 His fist crashed into her breast, and she shrieked, screaming even more frantically than before. A moderate beating on her back or butt could feel good if she was in the right mood, but having her breasts beaten, even lightly, had only ever hurt, and he wasn't about to beat her lightly. She fixed her eyes on his face, trying to distract herself from the incredible pain by watching that rare sight, Spock feeling strong emotions, but the pain was too great for intellectual curiosity or emotional connection; there was only screaming.

 His fists battered her breasts, and for the first time, she could see what he was doing. Screaming, she watched her breasts turn black under his hands, watched him beat her until the swollen skin split under the assault and she bled. She watched, and she screamed, and the pain was horrible, and yet she didn't feel the distress that she expected or that she'd been feeling only moments before. She realized that the face-up position enabled her to read, if not his mind, then his emotions, and the feeling that emanated from him was that this was right and good and that they were meant to do it. She grabbed onto that feeling, grabbed it tight and rode it, screaming and screaming, yet feeling that it was right.

 Finally the beating stopped, and she caught her breath while Spock removed his trousers. Spock's face was still savage, still frightening yet thrilling, but the look was less of violence now and more of sex. She was about to get fucked. He grabbed her legs and pushed them over her head, bending her double and leaving her sex exposed. He positioned himself over her, then plunged into her with one hard stroke, a stroke that had her screaming nearly as much as the beating had.

 She had often wished that someone would fuck her truly _hard,_ but she'd never even dreamed of sex that was this forceful. He pounded himself into her with brutal, bruising thrusts, and she realized that although he thought the beating was over, for her it wasn't; he was ramming into her with such strength that she was being truly battered.

 As Spock continued to smash into her savagely, she felt herself opening up emotionally, and she knew even before his hand reached her face that he intended to mind meld with her.

 The relentless, painful pounding went on as he rammed himself into her again and again, but suddenly that paled in importance as he crashed into her mind. She could feel him in her head, not just the sense of his emotions that she'd had before, but his personality, his thoughts, his memories, his habits, emotions, and desires. His essence poured into her in such a strong wave that she was overwhelmed and felt her own sense of self weakening under the onslaught. His powerful personality threatened to take her over completely, and she flexed her mental muscles, looking for the place where she kept her _self,_ desperately grabbing for her own thoughts and memories.

 Even though she was not a telepath, as he was, meshing with another was a big part of how she did her job, and she desperately reached for all of the strategies she used to mesh with another. She found that she could put her thoughts into the spaces between his, slide her memories into the interstices of his own, wrap her personality around his personality and hold it and let it fill her without its taking her over.

  _"Yes,"_ she heard him think. _"Yes, like that,"_ and she felt secure enough in her sense of self now to look at the smorgasbord of his mind spread before her. The array was dazzling: the personality, the memories, the habits, the fears, the desires, even the well-learned disciplines. His mind was vast and so much better organized than her own that she felt humble and shabby in comparison. But that feeling didn't last, because his mind was right there, thumbing through the memories in her mind, exploring her emotions, being awed in his turn by the richness of another sentient being, opened to him.

 His body was still ramming into hers, and it still hurt, but the satisfaction of having his mind spread out before her was so great that he could hurt her forever, if only she could continue to enjoy his mind and this closeness.

  _"We cannot stay like this,"_ his mind told her. _"Mind melds last a short time, or separation becomes impossible. But we can do it again. And before we go, I want you to come for me. I see from your memories that you can come on the pain if you're in the right frame of mind, so go there, and do so."_

 Finding the right frame of mind was easy with him guiding her to the area of her own mind where that ability lived, and she came hard, screaming for a different reason now, and digging her nails into his back as she peaked. He was waiting only for that and came, too, as soon as she had finished, roaring with a most un-Spock-like sound and ending with a series of fast thrusts that had her eyes rolling back in her head.

 He withdrew from her mind, and they rested for a time, then he raised two fingers and brushed them along her hand. She weakly returned the caress, nearly unconscious from all that had gone before, and Spock found McCoy's hypo and administered it to her.

 Liz opened her eyes and smiled weakly at him. "Is it gone?"

 "The _pon farr_ or the _plak tow_?"

 "Yes."

 "The _plak tow_ is gone. The _pon farr_ has ... receded for the moment. It usually takes two bouts of mating before it departs completely, but we should get a few days of respite before the madness is next upon me. You'll have some time to heal, though I fear that we must do this a second time."

 "Good," she said.

 Spock lifted an eyebrow. "Good?"

 "I wouldn't want to do that very often, but I wouldn't want this to be the only time, either."

 "That is remarkably similar to how Vulcans feel about it."

 "I get that."

 Spock cleared his throat. "The _pon farr_ hormones have another effect that I haven't mentioned."

 "What?"

 "You're familiar with the effect of oxytocin on humans?"

 "Oxytocin is often called the bonding hormone. Spock? Do you mean you feel something for me now?"

 "I've beaten you black and blue; I've violently entered both your body and your mind. Even a Vulcan can't do that and remain unmoved."

 "I feel fond of you, too, Spock."

 "'Fond' is a good word. It implies affection without human romance."

 "But you must know that half the women on this ship are in love with you."

 "No," Spock said. "Half the women on this ship are in love with the _illusion_ of me, because they believe me to be safe in a way that human males are not." _Pon farr_ hormones allowed him to smile slightly at her. "You know that I'm not remotely safe."

 "I like you just the way you are."

 "That was what first drew me to you." He paused. "And, what are you doing seven years from now?"

 "Seven years from now, we won't be stuck anymore. You could go to Vulcan if you wanted to."

 "I am aware of that, yes."

 She smiled. "I am honored. Yes, I'll meet you seven years from now."

 Spock rose and called McCoy on the intercom. "Shall I bring Dr. Liz to sickbay now?"

 "No!" Liz said.

 "You do need medical care."

 "I desperately need medical care. But I can't walk to sickbay. And if you leave your quarters carrying a naked, bruised, and bloody woman in your arms, I don't think your reputation would survive. Have McCoy come here. He'll do it."

 "On my way!" McCoy said.

 "Thank you," Spock said, returning to crouch next to her where she lay on the mat.

 She reached up a hand and stroked his face. "Your secrets are safe with me."

 "Your mind is safe with me," Spock said, "But I fear your poor body is not."

 "You know how I said the price of admission was steep?"

 Spock nodded.

 "It is -- it's even steeper than I'd realized it would be -- but it's worth it. _You're_ worth it."

 Spock allowed himself a small smile.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Thanks for reading!
> 
> 2\. This is the first story I wrote in this fandom, which I wrote before I had read any other fan fiction. There are many things I would change about this story if I were writing it now, but I'm intentionally leaving it as is. I think I've improved slightly since I wrote this, and comparing my current work with my past work heartens me. Plus, I've read the early stories of writers who are currently much better than I am, and seeing how bad their early stories were gives me hope. Perhaps this story will hearten someone else in the same way. :-)


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